


what we've got is gold

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, One Shot, oddly put together friend!fic, with of course e/R because how could i not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:48:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day at the beach with the Les Amis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what we've got is gold

" _15 Euros_?", says Enjolras indignantly, staring at the sign by the loungers. "15 Euros for a pissy parasol and bits of canvas stretched on a plastic frame? This is _ridiculous_."

"It's business, I guess", Combeferre says, shaking the sand out of his flip-flops.

The group regards the small area of the crowded beach they chose for themselves for a moment, before they start unpacking and undressing, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. It's their first real vacation, ever since they came together as a group of friends, a few years ago. It felt nice, going away from the city for once, and indulging in all the charms the sea-side had to offer.

"Hey!", huffs Enjolras, waving his arms at everyone. "Hey hey hey _hey_! Stop! What about that empty beach over there? Look, it's toll free, and just as pretty!"

Everybody looks at the weedy, pebbled cove some way away from the official town beach.

"Yeahhh", says Cosette. "But here you have the bars, and the music, and not to mention good looking people passing by you all the time." She peers over her sunglasses at a well muscled surfer who walks by; Marius turns an odd shade of red.

"Whatever", Enjolras says. "I'll just go there myself, and let you all be ripped off for something we shouldn't be forced to pay for in the first place. Parasols. _Shade_. Honestly, you people."

He turns and starts down the beach haughtily, and gets only several feet away from his friends when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"I'm coming with you", Grantaire says, weirdly cheerful.

Enjolras just hums approvingly in response, and continues walking briskly, still annoyed. Grantaire glances at him from the corner of his eye and smiles, speeding up to match his pace.

*****

"You are kidding me", Bahorel says, watching Joly apply sun cream all over his face like goddamn warrior paint.

"It's not healthy, staying out in the sun before 5pm. And in August, as well. Everyone knows that", says Joly stubbornly, smearing white paste down his cheeks.

"It's your third layer, I think you're safe now", Bahorel deadpans, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment.

"You can never be too safe", Joly says darkly, before relaxing into his chair, and closing his eyes. Beside him, Jehan nods, fixes his straw hat, and opens his book.

"Not you, too", Courferac says, suddenly appearing by their side, a ball squeezed tight under his arm.

"Yes, me too", Jehan says. He looks at Courfeyrac under the brim of his hat, and then determinedly focuses on his book. When Courfeyrac doesn't move, hovering above him, he sighs, and lifts his head again.

"What?"

"You are going to sit this entire day out, aren't you? With your little book, and your little straw hat, and your pink swimming trunks."

Courfeyrac has to admit it's impressive, Jehan actually finding (and buying and wearing) a bright pink article of men's swimwear.

"I have sensitive skin, Courf", Jehan says wearily. "I burn so easily I could as well be a potato chip."

 _No potato is as adorable_ , Courfeyrac thinks.

"Come on, Prouvaire", he says. "Just one game. Fifteen minutes. We're one man short, and Joly here probably can't even see from all that cream he tacked on his eyelids. Or are you too afraid to take on my _legendary_ skills?"

"But Tagore", Jehan starts.

"Rabin what's-name can wait", Courfeyrac declares. " Right now, the noble game of beach volleyball beckons!"

"Does it, _really_ ", says Jehan, but gets up.

*****

"My body is very sensitive to temperature changes", Enjolras warns him, stepping into the water gingerly and wincing at the first, cold sensation of the waves at his ankles.

Grantaire has quite a few things to say about Enjolras' body, himself, watching him from a few feet away; Enjolras is surprisingly muscly, but not too much, his chest lightly defined and just the barest hints of abs on his lean stomach. Grantaire has seen (and touched, and kissed, and bitten) most of his body in the dark privacy of Enjolras' bedroom, during their various, drunk hook-ups. Neither of them spoke much about it, which suited them well enough. They ignored everyone else's smug little comments, which inevitably cropped up from time to time, instead just finding each other whenever Enjolras was ready to let his guard down for a while, and Grantaire was more than happy to oblige.

Seeing Enjolras' bare body in its full glory, in shining, warm sunlight, is something entirely different from those late night, intoxicated scenes.

"Hurry up", he shouts, watching Enjolras carefully tread through the shallows until he was up to his calves. "Or do I have to hurry you up?"

Enjolras fixes him with a glare.

Having the complete focus of Enjolras' attention never ceased to have an effect on Grantaire; he did his best to be stared down with those piercing blue eyes as much as possible. Now he just grins, and waves his arms around the water innocently, treading water through his fingers and creating small ripples.

"You _wouldn't_ ", Enjolras grits through his teeth, and takes another step, making a grimace as the water reaches his knees.

"Oh, Enjolras, it appears you don't know me all that well", Grantaire replies, starting towards him with slow determined steps, a wicked smile on his face.

"Don't you dare splash me", Enjolras says, eyes blazing, one finger pointing threateningly at Grantaire.

"Don't - you - _dare_ \- AURGHHH!"

He screeches and flails as Grantaire splashes him right in the chest. After a moment he takes to  compose himself, he takes a look at his torso, dripping wet, and then raises his head to meet Grantaire's eyes, looking positively livid. Grantaire is almost giddy with glee.

" _You_ ", he says, marching towards Grantaire, the water barely slowing him down.

Grantaire goes down laughing.

*****

"ATTACK!", screams Eponine savagely, perched unsteadily on Bahorel's shoulders, and Bahorel charges through the shallow, yelling, a big, scary smile on his face. A few feet away, Cosette is laughing as Feuilly tries to keep his balance under her, holding her pale legs as innocently as possible.

From the coast, Marius is watching them with a worried look on his face.

Bahorel and Eponine all but run them down in the first go, and Feuilly complains Bahorel aimed at his 'more sensitive places', and Cosette swings her blonde hair over her shoulder and yells: "Again! Again!" until everyone concedes, and the battle commences once more.

*****

They've somehow gone from fighting to kissing in the span of 30 seconds. But Enjolras is okay with it.

Enjolras is very, very okay with it.

Grantaire's lips slide wetly against his own, tasting like salt, and Enjolras licks his way into the sweet, familiar warmth of his mouth. Grantaire makes a small, pleased noise in the back of his throat, and swings his arms around Enjolras' shoulders, one of his hands curling around the back of Enjolras' head, his fingers twisting in the damp curls, and Enjolras responds by curving both of his arms around the small of Grantaire's back and pulling him closer to him, deeper in the water, until he can feel Grantaire is already half hard against his hip.

He opens one eye and scans their deserted surroundings.

 _Empty enough_ , he decides as he sinks his fingers beneath the band of Grantaire's trunks.

*****

Jehan turns out to be one hell of a server, but Courfeyrac is great at receiving (no joke intended), and they balance each other well, keeping the ball in the air for as long as five minutes, throwing themselves around, saving it in the last minute, both of them stubbornly determined to win.

Bossuet and Joly stand aside, just watching them, mouths agape.

*****

Near the water, Bahorel is sleeping in the sun, and Feuilly and Cosette are slowly, but determinedly, burying him under heaps and heaps of sand. Marius is standing nervously above them, wringing his hands. Feuilly and Cosette are laughing together, as they pour another bucketful of sand on Bahorel's legs, and he doesn't even stir.

*****

Courfeyrac and Jehan are both a mess right now, wet with sweat and white from the sand, their hair clinging to their foreheads limply. The skin of Jehan's shoulders has gone dangerously red, and Courfeyrac's nose is already peeling.

*****

Bahorel awakes to find himself unable to get up. A string of curses is shouted down the beach, and a mother passing with her son covers his ears quickly in shock. Only Marius is left to help him dig himself out, seeing as Feuilly and Cosette ran somewhere to hide, and possibly buy themselves drinks.

*****

Eponine is sunbathing, her headphones firmly in place and her ears filled with nostalgic Edith Piaf tunes (her favourites), when something above her blocks the sun. She opens her eyes slowly, and squints at the figure towering over her.

"You're dripping all over me", she says.

"Oh, sorry", Combeferre says, running a hand through his wet hair, and moves to sit next to her.

He looks more attractive than usual; when rid of his grey and black, baggy turtlenecks and his thick framed eyeglasses, the line of his profile became more pointed and aristocratic.

His eyes are dark blue, like the sea.

"I thought you might like this", he says, producing a seashell from the pocket of his trunks.

Eponine gasps and pulls herself up on her elbows, taking off her headphones.

She's taken to being the unofficial chronicler of the group's vacation adventures, complete with a scrapbook and a crappy second-hand camera she carried with her everywhere they went, and collecting various objects from all the places they've been in, including napkins, matches, and sugar packets from cafés. She takes the seashell carefully, examining it.

It's light pink, speckled with brown and blue dots, and almost as big as her palm.

"That'll be something for the shelf, right?", Combeferre says, smiling nervously.

"It's lovely", she says quietly, turning it over in her hand.

"Yes, well, I saw it, and I thought of you, so...", Combeferre starts, then blushes, and directs his eyes to the sand. It goes unnoticed by Eponine, who is still mesmerized by the shell.

"Thank you so much", she says, putting it in her bag gently.

Combeferre smiles to himself.

"Want to show me where you found it?", she asks.

*****

"Oh, and what's this?", Bahorel says, lifting one hand to cover his eyes and look at Grantaire and Enjolras walking slowly towards them. "The lovebirds back so soon? What gives?"

"There was one very territorial crab over there", Grantaire says with a grin. "Enjolras got into quite a heated discussion with it, but it prevailed."

"Shut up", Enjolras says, his face resembling a small thunder cloud.

Grantaire bites his lip to stop smiling, and glances at the blond boy next to him, his eyes shining.

"A crab chased you off the beach?", Bahorel says, stifling a laugh.

"It was enormous, though", Grantaire says. "It's incredible, how convincing it can be, when one _very_ angry crab charges at you, clicking its claws. I'm not going to lie to you, I screamed like a girl."

"So the beach wasn't to your liking, then?", Bossuet asks from his lounger, where Joly is tending to his foot. He managed to step on a sea urchin, fifteen minutes ago.

"No, I...", Enjolras says, drawing circles in the sand with his foot, "I quite liked the beach, actually."

"Yeah, uh, me too. The beach was, um, kind of great", says Grantaire.

They both turn a specific shade of red.

Bahorel and Bossuet exchange a look.

*****

"Look, the sun is already setting", Eponine says, pointing at the horizon. "How is that even possible?"

"I guess we lost track of time", Combeferre says, glancing at his waterproof watch. "It's almost nine o'clock."

"Jeez", Eponine replies, taking a look at the town beach behind them, suddenly seeming a long way away. "The others must be worried sick by now."

She frowns.

They've wandered quite a bit away from the official beach, and spent almost three hours (three hours! But they went by so fast!) jumping around little pools of sea life, Combeferre entertaining her with obscure facts about seahorses and starfish, and Eponine taking pictures of the rocky coast.

"We should start back", she says, and Combeferre nods, following her down the beach. They walk slowly, though, both enjoying the other's quiet company, not too eager to get back to the loud crowd that were their friends. The tide is almost up, and they splash through the water, the waves coming all the way to their knees. The sun is already disappearing from the sky, colouring the beach in dark red and gold, and their shadows grow long and intertwine into one large, lean silhouette on the sand.

Eponine breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with salty sea breeze.

Combeferre walks beside her, silent.

*****

"No, _no_ , the tower's supposed to go on the _east_ side, so the courtyard can be west, next to the guest chambers-"

"Enjolras, stop bossing everyone around-"

"I am _just_ pointing out that the aesthetics of this establishment would be much better if you'd just move your stupid tower a little bit to the left-"

"Bahorel, are you... making little sand people?"

"Sure am. You have to make people for your castle."

"..."

"What? You do!"

"Grantaire, don't-"

"What are you doing?", asks Combeferre, suddenly appearing above the group. Beside him, Eponine is already fumbling for her camera.

"This was Courfeyrac's idea."

"Like everything _awesome_ always is-"

"Shut up."

"We're building a sand castle."

"Oh. Well, that tower would look much better on the northern side-"

"No!"

The group is kneeling around an enormous pile of sand. Some parts of it truly resemble a building. Most of it, though, still looks like just an enormous pile of sand. There is sand everywhere: in Feuilly's hair, on Jehan's cheeks, Bahorel still almost completely covered in it from his earlier burying ceremony. Enjorlas is kneeling, his hair mussed up, concentrated on building strong enough walls for it to stand against the tide. Next to him, Grantaire is fiddling with a small stick, poking holes in the walls and declaring them 'windows', even though he's mostly doing it just to annoy Enjolras.

Courfeyrac looks guilty, sitting close to Jehan and his badly burnt shoulders, and glancing at him every few seconds. The poet is most pointedly not looking at him at all, more focused on his tower.

(Later Courfeyrac will creep into Jehan's room to say he's sorry and to bring him the precious gift of sunburn lotion. No one is quite sure what happened after, but Courfeyrac re-appeared just after two whole hours, his hair a mess, and his eyes hazy.)

Bahorel is half-sitting on Feuilly, claiming it to be his punishment 'for the liberties he has taken during the day', and Feuilly is taking it all in stride, used by now to his friend's affectionate bullying.

Marius is holding Cosette's hand, while she helps Jehan with his tower with her other hand.

Bossuet has his injured foot in Joly's lap, and is making little sand farm animals, which Joly is carefully arranging into a neat circle in the castle's courtyard.

Combeferre is leaning knowledgably over all of them, talking about architectural and historical inaccuracies of this particular building, and Bahorel is exaggeratedly rolling his eyes.

"Say cheese!", says Eponine with a smile, and takes the picture.

Afterwards, she made them all copies, and tucked her own into her wallet, taking it out whenever she felt down, until next summer, when they all went on a Europe-wide roadtrip.

But, well, that's a story for some other time.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write this because I needed that e/R fighting-to-kissing scene? Hmmmm. The world may never know.  
> We could all use a bit of summer right now, anyway.


End file.
